"Just leave me alone! I wish you'd never met my father!" Cinderellen slammed her bedroom door, making the whole house shudder.

The screen door creaked as I rolled my eyes. Rocking back and forth on the porch swing, I sighed. My mother and Cinderellen were having another one of their arguments. This time it was about Cinderellen wanting to move her room up to the attic.

Cinderellen, my stepsister, has been miserable since our parents got married, and especially since we moved up here to my grandparents' summer house. What she doesn't seem to realize is that the rest of us have been miserable, too.

Cinderellen's not her real name, by the way. It's Ellen. I call her Cinderellen because she acts like my mom's the wicked stepmother. She doesn't seem to like me at all, either.

My mother tapped on Cinderellen's door. "Ellen, can I come in?"

Nothing happened. I guess my mom had given up. It was safe to go back inside.

As I was pouring myself a tall glass of iced tea, Cinderellen skulked out of her room. I eyed her over the ice cubes as I took a sip.

"What are you looking at, brat?" she asked, opening the refrigerator. I'm only two years younger, but she talks to me like I'm eight.

"Why would you want to move to the attic, anyway?"

"Because it's none of your business." The venom was lost in the cold air seeping from the open door. She picked up the pitcher from the table. "Because I want to be away from you." She narrowed her eyes and stepped closer.

I calmly took another sip of the iced tea, watching her carefully.

She turned away and got a glass from the cupboard. Taking both the glass and the pitcher, she disappeared, swallowed by the black maw, into her room. The shades were pulled to keep the heat out.

I downed the rest of my iced tea and threw the ice into the sink. The two cubes chased each other around the stainless steel, finally meeting in the drain.

I walked to my mom's room, the only room in the house with air conditioning. It was right across the hallway from Cinderellen's, so she must have heard her leave her room.

I knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"

I was surprised when the door swung open. Unfortunately, my mom's body blocked most of the cool air from coming out into the hallway. "I need a break. Wanna go for a canoe ride?"

"Sure." If there's one thing I like about this shack, it's the pond. My grandparents had stocked it with koi a long time ago. Their gaping mouths and whiskers gave them the appearance of catfish, but their colors were distinctively beautiful. "Can we feed the fish?"

"Yeah, honey. Go get the bread."

From the kitchen, I heard Mom knock and say, "Ellen, would you like to go for a canoe ride?" If there was an answer, I didn't hear one.

We crossed the dry dirt road, our feet landing in puffs of dust. My cheap sneakers were already colored light brown, and we'd only been here a week. Our feet practically dragged us down the hill toward the pond. Smiling like a little kid, I swung the yellow bag of bread in lazy circles until we got to the canoe.

We dragged it into the water and clambered inside, leaving muddy swirls in the water. When we got to the middle, I tapped my oar against the side of the canoe. Drops of cold pond water hit my face and arms. I tapped again, and a few seconds later, the water was churning with orange and black and yellow. This is what we had come for. We balled up the stale bread and sent it flying. Almost as soon as it hit the water, one of the koi vacuumed the food from the surface.

After a couple minutes, I realized something was missing. "Where's Charlie?" I asked.

"I don't know. I was wondering that myself."

I frowned and squinted. Maybe the reflection from the water was keeping me from seeing him.

I was disappointed when his almost-albino shape didn't appear by the time the bag was empty. We picked up our oars and paddled to the weeds on the other side. We like to look for turtles here, since they were too shy to come with the fish. Not seeing any, we kept paddling, circumnavigating the pond.

"I'm worried about Ellen," my mom's voice floated from the front.

"I would be, too," I said sarcastically.

"No, really, honey. She doesn't seem to like us at all. It's been a year now."

"She's just being stupid, that's all."

"I just can't ... I can't seem to connect with her. You heard us today."

"Yeah, poor Cinderellen wants to move to the attic. I heard." Imagining giant clouds of dust and rodent droppings, I shuddered.

"I've asked you not to call her Cinderellen!" Mom snapped.

"Well, that's what she acts like."

After a couple minutes, Mom began again. "So, what am I going to do?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Tell Mike."

"Sure, then she'll never talk to me again. That'll help."

"Well ..."

"Can't you talk to her?"

"About what? What it's like to live in a hole?"

Mom didn't answer because, just then, a familiar green Lexus turned into the driveway. "Mike's home! Come on, let's go!"

I reluctantly took Mom's lead and started paddling for the dock. In a matter of minutes, we'd turned the canoe over and were at the top of the hill.

"Mike!" They hugged and kissed while I unloaded groceries.

"Ellen, your dad's here," I called out as I stepped into the hot, heavy air of the house. There was no answer, so I put the milk and ice cream in the fridge and plopped down on the couch. There weren't going to be any more canoe rides.

During dinner, Cinderellen hardly said a word. I mostly listened to Mom and Mike compare their week apart. She didn't mention our canoe rides.

We separated after dinner -- Cinderellen to her room, me to the couch and Mom and Mike to the kitchen. They preferred doing the dishes together, listening to Mike's Frank Sinatra CDs.

Even though my eyes were closed, I sensed Cinderellen venturing out of her room. "Like a rat sneaking dog food," I mused as she tried to creep by me. "Where're you going?"

There was no answer. I cracked open my eyes and saw Cinderellen's silhouette making its way down the steps, to the hill.

Curious, I opened the door and began following her. Sure enough, she was making her way down to the pond. "Our pond," I thought angrily and marched after her.

As I neared, she sat down on the dock, removed her shoes and socks and dangled her bare toes in the water. She watched me coming closer, which only made me madder. I stood behind her, practically livid, and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"What's it to you?" was Cinderellen's quick, and predictable, reply. She went back to peering into the black water.

"Watch out, the koi might eat you," I sneered. "Don't you know they're man-killers??"

"Very funny. Don't you know I'm not an idiot?"

"So, what are you doing here?" I asked, arms still crossed.

"Trying to get away from them and Frank Sinatra." She used her chin to indicate the house.

This brought a smirk to my face. "Isn't it crazy? I've never seen Mom so googly eyed over anyone."

"It's disgusting," Ellen agreed. "Dad never listens to Old Blue Eyes unless your mom's around."

"Yeah, as soon as your dad came, we had to hurry back up to the house." I sat next to her at the edge and took off my shoes. "Even though I still wanted to look for Charlie."

"Charlie?"

"My fish ... Well, not really my fish, but he's my favorite out of all of them."

"How can you tell them apart? I thought all fish looked alike."

"Charlie's really different. He's ..."

"Girls?" I heard my mom calling. "Where are you?"

"Down here!" I stood up and waved my arms. "Come on, we'd better get back up there. Mom gets nervous if she doesn't know where we are."

Ellen had already stood up. She slipped her shoes back on, like I did. "So what about Charlie?"

"Oh, he's ... right there! Charlie's right there!" I pointed to him watching us in the shallow water next to the dock.

"Cool." Ellen bent over to look at him. "His back is pretty."

"Yeah. That's what's different about him."

"Girls?" my mom's voice came again.

"We'd better get going," I said. "I'm glad we found him tonight."

"Yeah, me, too."

Ellen and I began the long hike up the hill. With every step we took, the air cooled and the hum of insects became almost inaudible. Ellen held the door open as we stepped into the house.

Meriam Djelidi, 18 and a senior from Fillmore, N.Y., runs track, plays volleyball, is in the choir and band, and has won poetry contests. She's a member of the Future Farmers of America and tutors a seventh-grader as part of her work with the Literacy Volunteers of America. She will study pre-veterinary medicine at Alfred University this fall. Her faculty sponsor is James Mullen of Fillmore Central School. Djelidi's story is "Cinderellen," which explores the relationship between a stepmother, her own daughter and her troubled stepdaughter.